The Language of Flowers
by JenLea
Summary: In the language of flowers, each breed of flower means something. To the divas, each meaning somehow goes deeper.


The Language of Flowers

_Black Rose_

Disclaimer: I own no one! The quote used in the eulogy I found online, author Unknown. The second quote belongs to David M Romano.

A/N- Don't ask me where this idea came from. Thanks to Rachel for letting me bounce ideas off her.

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_In the language of flowers, the black rose means death._

Maria clutched the rose, struggling to hide her tears. How was it possible that Matt was gone? One day, he had been there and then he was gone.

"Maria, can I help you?" Amy Dumas asked, kneeling in front of her friend. "Do you need anything?" Maria shook her head. "I'm here," Gently, the redhead grasped Maria's hand.

Maria was lost in a world of her own. Today should have been the happiest day of her life. It was their planned wedding day. Now, she was spending it burying the love of her life.

"When are you due?" Amy asked, noticing her protruding belly. Maria sighed.

"Early next month," Maria murmured. "A little girl, Magnolia Eavan," She shook her head. "Matt wanted her to have an 'M' name like her parents,"

It didn't seem real that Matt could be here one day and gone the next. It seemed unfair that he couldn't hold his daughter. It seemed like Maria and Maggie were being deprived of the normal family life, all because Matt was gone.

"Are you sure you're going to be okay?" Amy asked, sitting beside her. "You look like you're going to pop," Maria chuckled softly, even though it didn't seem right.

"I feel like I'm going to pop. Matt called his Dough Girl," Smiling, she couldn't help but remember how much she hated that nickname. Now, she loved it, and just wished she could hear him call her that one more time.

The minister droned on about Matt. Maria couldn't help but notice how bland everything he said was. _Matthew was a great man who will be sorely missed. _

That could apply to anyone! She thought angrily. What about the things he did? The way he lived his life? What about Maggie? Why doesn't he ramble about how much he loved his unborn daughter?

"The mother of his unborn child would like to give his eulogy," The priest sat down.

Struggling to her feet, Maria waddled to the podium. She couldn't help but notice the baby was unusually active. Maggie was usually so calm.

"I will never forget Matt's last words to me. He grasped my hand, touched my belly and said "Maria, I am so tired. I want to rest. Know I am always here with you and Maggie. I love you" Matt wasn't afraid to die. He saw death as a new adventure, figuring he could experience something different. Maggie was the center of his life. He made sure to talk to her every day, telling me that he highly doubted she'd remember, but he wanted to be sure she never doubted his love for her. Someone once said:

We cherish the special place in our hearts  
that will always be reserved for you.  
We thank you for the gift  
your living brought to each of us.

Matt made me the happiest woman on Earth. He left a huge piece of himself with me, in the form of our daughter. Magnolia Eavan is a gift, directly from him. He will live on through memories, and stories. Before he died, he wanted me to end his eulogy with this:

So when tomorrow starts without me,  
Don't think we're far apart,  
For every time you think of me,  
I'm right here, in your heart.

Matt, we love and miss you," Maria muttered, taking her seat. She couldn't help but tune out the rest of his burial.

Silently, mourners filed past the coffin. Maria stayed at the end of the line, with Amy by her side. She wasn't particularly close to the red head but her presence was comforting.

"Maria, what are you doing?" Amy asked, dumbfounded. Maria sighed, looking into the hole. People were leaving and yet, she was waiting.

"I want to see him buried. I've got a present," she murmured. "My last sonogram is tied around this rose" Amy nodded, understanding somehow. As his casket was lowered into the ground, Maria picked up a handful of dirt. Dropping the dirt over the casket, she gently released her black rose.

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End file.
